By Any Other Name Would Smell as Sweet
by phantasmagone
Summary: Arthur. He surrounds himself with thorns and lingers in the darkness. He is scared of what he was and what he is. Alfred. Ignorance is truly blissful. They start falling together with a down, derry, derry, derry down, down. Don't get involved. Don't get involved... Please get involved. (Usuk)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello.**

 **I guess I should warn you that there are dark themes in this story. An example is a suicide attempt. Please proceed with caution.**

Arthur saw a moving van through one of the windows and thought nothing of it. People stay and go, that's how it worked in life. The man who was moving in was a pretty tall, sandy haired blond who presumably had glasses. It seemed possible that we were the same age. The moving van driver and the blond seemed to be having a pleasurable conversation because even from this distance, Arthur felt that they were both smiling.

Suddenly, he broke eye contact with the driver and looked up. Arthur saw a pair of the most playful and resplendent blue eyes he had ever seen, staring right at me. With quick reflexes, Arthur looked away and closed the curtains. He then went into one of the many guest rooms and sank into the mattress to meet a peaceful slumber. He thought about the blue eyed man, the story that he might be carrying; a family, many friends, most definitely a girlfriend or two, no girl can escape that stare. But those were just artless thoughts. They were on different sides of the world. He has a bright future ahead of him for sure. That meant that Arthur need to stay out of his way for as long as he's staying. He never looked out that window for the rest of the day.

* * *

Alfred was riding inside a kind of cramped and really dusty moving van to a place in faraway Britain to a neighborhood he knew nothing about. If that's not what people call exhilarating, Alfred would question their very sanity.

Alfred is 18 years old and just graduated from a high school in America. He came here because around this area, the best college for the field he want to work in existed. Also because he just wanted some time to himself. He had too many friends in America and he wanted to try spreading my boundaries a bit by making friends from other countries.

Heck, he just made a new one today and it's the moving van driver, Michael.

The moving van came to a halt in front of the house that will probably be the place that he will live in for a good chunk of his life. It didn't seem that bad, two stories and enough space for a soon-to-be college student to stay in.

He stepped out and immediately thanked Michael for the drive and he insisted that he didn't deserve any thanks because it was his job. They broke into heavy laughter.

All the sudden, Alfred felt a presence of something staring at him. He looked around to try to find the source and was met with a pair of eyes peering at him from a tall window in a fairly old house not too far away. Catching my stare, he (?) immediately shut himself out, like a small, scared creature. Alfred was kind of disappointed when he went away, because boy wasn't he something else to look at. Even from far away, Alfred was able to make out piercing, green eyes that were like gemstones you can see in jewelry stores except much, much more dazzling.

But behind that stare, Alfred detected a hint of loneliness and perturbation. Someone who was in need of saving.

Well, wasn't he lucky, 'cause a perfectly good hero just moved in next door!

* * *

Great. Everything was in place. Except for that picture frame over there, maybe that needs to be moved a bit to the left…

Alfred's first day at college went well, made a lot of friends. There was a group of people called the bad touch trio who played pranks and flirted with girls. He also befriended this Asian guy who was reserved and didn't talk much. The professors seemed alright, he did get scolded for daydreaming during a lecture though.

After that a few days passed and Alfred managed to finally feel like this place was his second home. It's was much quieter than Alfred's old place but that's was alright with him. The silence gave it a more comforting atmosphere and he can hear the birds singing every morning. But something still bothered him and has been for a while.

The house next door and the man who inhabited that place.

Alfred never forgot that one time they shared eye contact and so that was why he was on his doorstep, furiously knocking and pressing the doorbell.

There was no answer.

A normal person would have walked away, a normal person would have given up.

But he was not normal, he was Alfred, so for 20 minutes, he stood on his doorstep and made some noise.

And finally, as his knuckles started bleeding, he heard the shuffling of feet inside the house. Then a click, and then a creak.

Alfred's line of vision met a man with a tight scowl and a bird's nest for hair, unmistakably the man whom he saw at the window. With a raspy, obviously unused voice, he asked

"What do you want?"

Even though this man was boring holes into him with his intimidating glare, Alfred replied with a chirpy voice.

"Hi! I'm Alfred Jones but you can call me Al. I just wanted to introduce myself since I moved next door and-"

"Yes, quite alright. I am perfectly aware that you moved next door, I remember hearing your obnoxious voice singing some… what was it… Ah yes, _Miley Cyrus_ songs in the middle of the night."

Alfred rubbed my neck in embarrassment.

"Well, nice meeting you… I guess. Now if you excuse me, I must prepare for bed."

"What do you mean, it's not…"

He looked around and realized that the sun was setting. The lampposts were on and the neighborhood was enveloped in a soft, amber light.

"Oh."

"Goodbye Mister Jones."

Before he slammed the door in Alfred's face (as he expected him to do), he held open the door for a bit longer with his super strength.

"But… But you haven't told me your name neighbor?"

He looked down, his face was distraught with thought.

"You're not going to leave unless I tell you huh."

"Yep!"

He gave a sheepish grin.

"… Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

And with unmatchable speed he ripped the door out of his grip and shut it closed.

Alfred walked home with the same sheepish grin imprinted on his face. He felt like a winner that night.

Even after the… strange first meeting, it seemed commonplace that Alfred would come over, knock furiously, and Arthur would pop his little head out to nag at him for being at his doorstep. But he keeps answering the door so Alfred knew he secretly likes his daily visits.

Alfred just recently realized that he sacrificed a lot of things to meet him every day. Alfred was invited to a lot of parties but he never went to any if they clashed with the special time he met with Arthur. Additionally, he had so much university work to do, but he always put it off for these visits.

Wasn't he a good friend?

Today, Alfred arrived with a gray, cloudy sky hovering above him and knocked the same way he did every day. Like always, he opened the door, a little quicker than last time. He stared at me with those miraculously large green pupils and said suddenly,

"It smells like rain."

Alfred laughed,

"Don't worry Artie! The weather forecast said that it was going to be cloudy, but there's like, a 0% chance of rain."

Arthur shook his head at Alfred.

"Alfred. I can smell the rain. It's coming pretty soon, I think you should leave."

Alfred sighed and looked at him disbelievingly.

"Artie, don't be ridiculous, only magic people can do things like that, you just want to drive me away don't you? Well you can bet that-"

He stopped midway from my ramblings to hear the soft staccato sounds of rain behind him.

"Oh shoot."

The staccato sounds started to increase their tempo and volume as the drizzle turned into a shower into a-

BOOM

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

Alfred shrieked and could only see white and blurs. He felt something bump into him and smelled an unfamiliar scent. He heard a crash, a shout, and my head hitting something hard. He saw green, black, and then nothing.

Alfred opened my eyes to see carpet floors, a white shirt, and blond streaks of hair….

Wait a minute.

He shot out of his original position to realize that he might have accidentally… fallen over Arthur.

Yep, he's definitely unconscious.

Whoops.

Alfred took the time to stare at his seemingly lifeless body sprawled across the floor.

He may have a bad attitude, but he was certainly not unattractive. His unruly hair was spread out all over, almost creating a halo around his head. His skin was unhealthily pale and his closed eyelids only emphasized his feminine, long eyelashes that strangely complimented his large eyebrows. His mouth was set in a straight line, I secretly wished it was smiling.

He would be drop dead gorgeous if he smiled more.

Alfred felt a bubbling feeling inside him when he imagined Arthur's lips curling up into a small smile.

He picked up Arthur and was surprised that he was so light.

 _This definitely isn't healthy._

He then was moved on the couch where Alfred continued his observations.

* * *

It has been several hours since Arthur fainted after being crushed by Alfred. His unconsciousness started to fade and two green eyes slowly opened. The first thing he saw was the ceiling, _hang on, was the ceiling always blue?_ His mind was slowly processing his surroundings until,

"ARTIE!"

Oh bloody hell.

"You're finally awake, thank god! I thought I had to call the ambulance and stuff, but I could have just carried you over to the nearest hospital because you're so light like, is that even healthy? You keep telling me I eat too much after I brought a box of donuts over but you know-"

"Alfred, shut up for a bit, please."

He gently placed his palm over his face and sighed, Alfred was looking over him, looking worried.

"Are you okay?"

Arthur could only grunt in response. Honestly, what was up with this American, his whispering can give anyone a migraine, doubt that he can whisper though.

Alfred…

Wait a minute.

"ALFRED F JONES WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!"

Alfred gulped.

"Um, I knocked you over and I felt responsible so I nursed you here?"

"…"

Is that what happened.

"… Are you speaking the truth?"

"Y-yeah! A hero never lies!"

Arthur groaned.

"Alfred, please leave."

"But Artie, I want to see your house! Pretty please?"

"No, and that's final."

"Is that how you say thanks to someone who helped you? That's cold."

"Good for you to have noticed. Now leave."

"… Artie."

"What?"

Alfred walked over to a nearby window and yanked the curtains open. The surroundings were clouded in a dark, ashen color. Rain was showering heavily, and the sound of thunder can be heard far away. A large gust of wind sped past, causing nearby trees to bend in dangerous angles. Alfred made some obvious hand gestures, making Arthur mutter in defeat.

"Fine."

Alfred fist pumped the air as Arthur got off the couch.

"Can you check the clock Alfred?"

"Uh… It's like, 8 pm dude."

Arthur stared at the kitchen for a moment.

"Can you cook Alfred?"

"Kind of yeah."

"Good."

Arthur shoved Alfred into the kitchen and turned him around so he would face him.

"Why don't you make yourself useful by cooking us both dinner? You better keep the kitchen clean or I'm going to leave you outside, where it's raining cats and dogs."

He abruptly walked away as Alfred saluted and said "Yes sir" while setting up the counter top.

Arthur climbed upstairs and went into his room. He went to his dresser to find suitable clothes for Alfred, unfortunately, Alfred would be too big for any of his clothes. He fell onto his bed, not knowing what to do. He was suddenly hit with a sinking feeling. He had to offer his brother's clothes to Alfred.

He slowly got up and dragged himself out of his room. He wasn't ready to go in, ready to face his sins. It didn't help that his brother's room was right next to his. Without realizing, he was right in front of the door. His hand, shaking, went to turn the doorknob. He flinched, it was covered in a thick layer of dust. His fingers gripped the doorknob and started to turn it, a large screeching noise rang throughout the empty hallway. All the sudden, the door flew open on its own, ripping Arthur away from gravity and sending him flying onto the floor. Papers flew everywhere and swirled around him in small tornados, taunting him, shrieking at him.

"MURDERER!"

From the now open door, figures owned by his brother were laughing at him.

"HOW PATHETIC. HOW PATHETIC. HOW HEARTLESS."

Soon, the pieces of paper were joining in on the laughter and chants.

"DIE ARTHUR KIRKLAND, DIE!"

All Arthur could do was lay there crouching over, his head on his knees, guilty tears streaming from his face, his voice joining the wailing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me, FORGIVE ME!"

A large gust of wind managed to scoot over a pair of scissors in front of him. It inched over quickly, insisting to be used.

"DO IT, DO IT, DO IT!"

Without hesitation, Arthur picked up the pair of scissors and put it against his neck. His tear-stained faced now smiling painfully.

"… Will you forgive me now, brother?"

Before he even tried cutting through his skin, a hand smacked the scissors away. His mind spinning, he persistently tried to grab the scissors again but he was being held back. He gazed up to see the source of his failure. Blue eyes were staring back, shocked, scared, and worried.

"Arthur?"

The gust of wind died quickly, the paper settled, and the figures were silenced.

All that was left was the sounds of sobbing and the whispers of comforting words.

* * *

 **Should I continue this story?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Lol hi. I'm back and really sorry. Long story short, I was just going through some stuff and didn't feel motivated enough to write anything. I just sat there... on the couch... eating a lot of ice cream. But now I'm back but don't expect any fast updates because life is just so unpredictable...**

 **btw i only looked through it like twice so if you see any mistakes tell me plz**

* * *

Both of them sat silently on the cold wooden floor. The sobbing quieted down, the source was looking away from the other with wet cheeks and still watering emerald pools with red bags underneath. The other was staring intensely into thin air, where the paper and the figures were… alive. He was trying to grasp at what happened but nothing could explain the sights he'd seen, whispers he heard, and the misery expressed by Arthur. Alfred was right next to him but Arthur was millions and millions of miles away, in his own world, swirling with dark matter and dying stars. He asked him relentlessly about what he saw but there was no response. Arthur sat like a puppet with strings cut off along with the puppeteer, the one that made him scream and nearly take his life a few minutes ago. He stared at the clock, the food that he made would become cold if he waited any longer. He poked at the puppet, finding no sign of life. He made a decision to pick up the being once again and walk down the stairs, setting it onto a chair in front of the table where Alfred placed dinner. Its eyes closed and opened twice in a blur. It stared down at the luke-warm food. Then his eyes bounced back up, with more focus and _humanity_. He observed Alfred with wonder.

"This looks… pretty good."

Alfred was speechless, until he noticed that Arthur was the one who spoke and sputtered incoherent sentences.

"Um… thanks," he finally concluded.

Another moment of silence was shared but it was more pleasant and warmer than before. Alfred really wanted to discuss not only what happened upstairs, but the layers and layers of dust he found in the kitchen he found similar to his hometown in America being covered with fresh snow in the winter. Except the snow was old. Really old. How was he living with these conditions? Has he been ordering pizzas? Eating instant foods? Or was he… not eating at all?

The thought scared him but made sense because after carrying him twice, he knew that he was almost skin and bones. He could not help but notice while eating dinner that his eating habits were inconsistent and strange. He was observing a rapacious monster swallowing and only swallowing, only taking small breaks to consume glasses of water. When he finished, he looked as though he would throw up so Alfred stood up from his chair, walked over, and rubbed his back in small circles.

"Thanks for the food," he said in a near-whisper.

Alfred didn't respond.

"I know you want to take a shower. I'll go upstairs again and-"

Oh no you don't." Alfred practically shouted.

" _I'll_ go upstairs and find clothes."

"But-"

Alfred was already stomping up the stairs. Arthur tried to follow but his legs failed him and he fell at a heap next to the chair. He lay there, not finding the energy to send his cries up a flight of stairs.

* * *

Alfred stared at the room, with the still-open door. It seemed safe but he couldn't be sure. What he saw wasn't a trick of the eye, it was a sinister parade of madness. A ritual and ceremony of bloodthirst and lust for vengeance. The glassy eyes of the reanimated things were aflame with malevolence. They beckoned despicableness within and released it in jeering cries and chants. He could still hear their bone-shuddering words causing goosebumps to crawl and settle on his skin.

It was strange. He was a pretty skeptical person but he wasn't in denial about what happened. Maybe because the scene caused him so much fear that he was shaken to believe. Or maybe because the green eyes that gazed at him were swarming with spirits and specters, lost things that can never be recovered. His eyes were two sets of broken mirrors, his tears were shards of glass.

It took him a while to gather up his courage and enter the room, his whole body tense and his feet tip-toeing. So far nothing supernatural was happening. He hurried over to something that looked like a dresser and started digging through. He found a shirt about his size and a pair of shorts that seemed a bit tight, but he could manage to fit in. He was about to scamper out of the room when something caught his eye. It was a picture, neatly put in a frame that was dotted with seashells. Four boys and a couple were standing in front of a sapphire ocean under a cerulean sky. They were all ridiculously tanned (probably forgot to wear sunblock because it was their first time at the beach) and beaming brighter than the sun peeking from above and into the picture. Three boys were unrecognizable but one certainly was.

Arthur

Was smiling

And was super adorable.

Young Arthur was clutching a red-head boy's arm tightly and was giving the dorkiest grin he had ever seen. It was filled with innocence and all kinds of good, it gave off a shine of certainty, of pure joy.

He couldn't stop the question that shoved itself into his mind.

Where did that little boy go?

No point pondering that now. The older, heavy-hearted version of the boy was downstairs, waiting, probably whispering curses of all kinds. He grabbed the clothes and walked out the room, all previous fear gone. He practically skipped down the stairs. When he finally came down to the dining table, he leaned over and faced Arthur with a dopey smile. He responded with a snort.

"So what's gotten you down to the ground?"

"... You arse."

He grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him up without any effort. He wobbled a bit but was eventually able to stand up straight and tall, just like he always has been. All of the ghastly effects the incident caused him nearly disappeared, except his eyes still reminded him of a dead fish's and he still didn't make an attempt to try to explain what Alfred saw. He respected that though. He knew it was something he wanted to keep hidden and leave forgotten, everyone had their own little secrets. Except his secret isn't really… little.

They walked over to the couch slowly because Arthur still had jelly for legs and sat down. Alfred gestured over to a remote he saw on the table next to the couch but Arthur gently shook his head. He didn't feel like watching the telly and besides, he only had one channel. But Alfred looked bored and Arthur felt bad so he leaned over, swiped the remote, blew the dust away in clouds, and turned it on. It sparked to life and blared the news.

"Yes, we are all going through a great storm tonight, nothing we are not used to of course. It should be over by tomorrow morning and hopefully, we will be graced with a beautiful rainbow."

"Not possible" muttered Arthur quietly.

"Why not?" Alfred was curious.

"It does rain a lot here, as you know, but we rarely get rainbows here. If we do see one, it's enough to get the whole country screaming and running, calling for the Doctor and hiding the queen in a bunker."

"You watch Doctor Who?"

"Yes… more like used to. I watched some seasons until… But now I only have this channel so…"

"So you should come over sometime! Doctor Who's not that bad so we can marathon it 'cause I got a whole collection of DVDs we can watch."

Arthur gave him a look.

"Okay okay… I'm a dork for Doctor Who."

"Doctor Who's 'not that bad' when you have 'a whole collection of DVDs'? Really?

Alfred's face flushed with embarrassment.

Arthur's lips curled a bit and his eyes gleamed a bit more.

"Then… I guess I'll take up on your offer... To watch Doctor Who of course."

* * *

 **I love Doctor Who but I can't watch it any more because of... ahem... (Netflix)**

 **So right now I'm filling the void with Supernatural... I really like it so far :D**

 **((Oh yeah there's kind of a hidden reference in here somewhere if you can find it then you're amazing))**


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur didn't realize what he had gotten himself into, until he woke up that morning, curled up in the tightest ball on the lap of the Alfred F. Jones, the dork, the egotistic arsehole, the one that had helped him calm down during one of his "attacks". He changed him, that's for sure. Arthur was now staring at the world through a kaleidoscope, colors that would have blinded the past Arthur, but now he was peering into the new sight with curiosity. Yes, the new vision hurt his eyes very, very much. It felt like his eyes were scalded with boiling water, or his retinas were being burnt, or both. But he somehow enjoyed the pain. He bathed in it, letting his fingers prune up in the bathtub. He giggled at his wrinkly skin, like a small child, not minding the man who stood before him, holding the microwave, with a look of disgust, ready to loosen his fingers so that the microwave would drop, sending sparks to go through his-

Yes. Arthur had absolutely no idea. Alfred molded the clay into his own image, the simple clay that then turned blue.

One would wonder how Arthur's defenses could even drop a bit around this man who was a stranger not so long ago.

Or has it truly been enough time for Alfred to climb in using a lengthy ladder and wipe the tears off of his eyes.

Their conversations at the doorstep were certainly not short. Gradually, Alfred's talks about literally nothing coaxed the reluctant man to open up, for him to fully engage in the banters that occurred. And the fateful happenings in Arthur's home was the last push needed for Arthur to (unknowingly) become closer to Alfred.

Alfred defied time, and managed to make a sad man happy again.

A task that was impossible was completed in such a seemingly short time.

Well done.

* * *

When Alfred came to, the first thing he noticed was the smell and that Arthur wasn't nestled against his lap anymore. Arthur was adorable (in a manly way of course *cough* no homo *cough*) when the clock struck 12 and he was down for the count. He mumbled and hummed strange things when his eyes were shut. He pet him like a small kitten and Arthur surprisingly leaned into his touch. He never knew the sassy, small man could be affectionate at times.

And a terrible cook.

Alfred waltzed into the kitchen and put one arm around the ashamed cook.

"Howdy."

"I will punch you."

"So…" Alfred stared into the disaster in the pan.

"What's this?"

Arthur sighed and faced the floor.

"Look, I really… appreciate what you've done for me and well, I wanted to repay your kind actions with something but obviously this was a bad idea."

"It's fine, really!"

Alfred shook him reassuringly.

"I'm really happy that you did all this for me."

He peered at the two piece of toast still in the toaster.

"I think _that's_ still edible. Stick some butter and jam on those suckers and it'll be a-okay!"

Alfred checked the fridge for butter and jam but couldn't find any.

"Sorry, I forgot to stack up on those."

Alfred pouted a bit, but then grinned and shrugged.

"I guess we're eating it really, reeeallly crispy then."'

Arthur smacked his arm.

They sat in the same chairs that they did yesterday. Another comfortable silence passed as they ate the toast (?), except for the sound of intense chewing, trying to bite through seemingly steel. Alfred managed to finish earlier than Arthur and relaxed in his seat, pondering. He jabbed his thumbs together unconsciously, which bugged Arthur. He would have given him a lecture, if his mouth wasn't full. And when he gulped, he didn't feel angry anymore so he bit into his toast (?) again. Alfred continued doing it though and Arthur chose to ignore it. Instead, he gazed at the twisting and changing facial expressions he was making whiling he was in his "mind palace". He admitted to himself that it was a tiny bit entertaining. He was nearly finished eating when Alfred cleared his throat. He put his tiny piece back on his plate and gave him his full attention.

"So, I've been thinking."

Arthur snorted. Alfred stuck his tongue out. He recollected himself and continued.

"About last night. About that um… offer. Maybe we can do that this weekend?"

Arthur angled his head to the side questioningly.

"You mean, watching Doctor Who together."

Alfred's head bounced energetically like a bobble head in motion.

Arthur stroked his chin a bit, to make it look like he was thinking when his answer was already set in stone. He really was grateful for his actions. No one had ever treated him with this much care for a long time. But that was the problem. He could not get too attached. He realized that he had let his guard down for too long and sooner or later, he'll lose control. All of that hard work would have been for nothing. He could never let Alfred share his misfortune. He had a special kind of innocence, succulent and warm-colored like a tangerine which bled and bled juices that circulate and pump sweet and sour throughout his heart and soul. One day, it would surely rot, but that day will never, _ever_ be anytime soon. Guaranteed.

"No… sorry I can't."

Arthur couldn't look him in the eyes. He already knew what he looked right now: like a kicked puppy.

"Why not?"

"I've... got stuff to do."

The air around Alfred changed.

 _Because I'm scared. Because I'm unsure. Because you deserve to be happy._

"…"

Alfred's eyes became stormy seas.

"I get it…"

He stood up from the chair and placed his empty plate in the sink. Why not? Why not indeed. Obviously this guy had no plans, so what's the matter with him coming over and having some fun? Arthur's face was stern and unreadable.

 _What is it? Say something!_

Alfred's fists balled up.

 _Was it something that I did?_

"Was it something that I did?"

"No! it's just… just…"

"I just can't."

 _Well done Kirkland, you really got your point through._

"Ok. I understand."

Alfred looked and even sounded defeated. He disregarded Arthur completely and made his way to the door.

Suddenly, Arthur was desperate.

Perhaps if he stalled him, he'll find a way to tell him what he's thinking. He tried a shout, but nothing came out.

Nothing came out.

Just wisps of air and a low gurgling noise.

Alfred was turning the doorknob. Arthur was clawing at his neck.

Alfred was stepping outside. Arthur tried to move but his feet sank into the floor like prey in quicksand.

"You know Arthur, you didn't have to lie to me. I thought that we were close enough to be true to each other. I guess by saying that you 'can't', you don't want to do it. Ever. And I would have understood if you just said so. That's all I guess. Bye."

Alfred shut the door without even turning around.

Arthur slammed his fist against the floor, and that started to sink as well. His whole body felt like it would become part of the floor. Voices started to chatter in his head until it became pandemonium from a freak show. The cries were from caged beasts, which were hungry, thirsty. They pounded against the metal bars, they scratched and bit. They were quarreling and quarreling in their native tongues, all so foreign to poor Arthur who was clutching his head in defeat.

Then one voice grew vibrant and empowered the rest.

"This is for the greater good! He is gone. He will not be a burden to you, and _especially_ , you won't be a heavy, _heavy_ load to him.

The voice seemed to be sneering at him, but Arthur could care less at the moment.

* * *

Maybe Alfred overreacted. Maybe. It did seem like he acted childishly towards the situation. He could have just reasoned something out with him. He probably felt a little hurt when Arthur lied to him and that triggered useless frustration. His head was swarming with thoughts as he was marching back to his place, about whether he should be angry with Arthur or not. A part of him wanted to yell at Arthur for not saying something. For being too enigmatic to understand. For pushing him away when he had accepted him before. But a majority of him knew that Arthur was not at fault. He was awkward. For some strange reason, he detested and stayed away from other human beings. He even tried to kill himself for goodness sake! His communication skills aren't that polished. He probably couldn't say what he was thinking because it was just too much for him to handle.

The majority couldn't win against the hot-headed man's current state. So he was furious at Arthur. Hopefully, he would calm down after some rounds of video game playing and actually not procrastinating on his college work. He's got the time now after all.

* * *

 **Uh, hi. It's the author that never updates like ever haha. Sorry again.**

 **SO, this story. It may seem rushed, I know. It's something that I regret now. I'm going to try to make up for it by shoving in a bit more plot. Don't worry about it.**

 **I hope this chapter explains something about why Arthur's at ease with Alfred.**

 **If it doesn't then I'm sorry.**

 **Next chapter will probably have some more stuff about Alfred's college life.**

 **Have a wonderful day. ((also i couldn't update because i wanted to finish homestuck and i did? and now i'm miserable?**


	4. Chapter 4

Does Alfred seem like a person who is popular at his university? Well, yeah! This really shouldn't be surprising news, since his personality is appealing to the general public. In addition, he juggles both academics and sports well enough to receive recognition from many of his professors. But his playful side reveals him to not be a goody-two shoes. He often plays pranks with Gilbert Beilschmidt, affectionately dubbed by many as the "albino clown", who also dubs himself with nicknames usually ending with "awesome". Gilbert is one of his many close friends which includes Kiku (as mentioned earlier), Francis, Matthew, and Elizabeta. If Alfred is ever asked to describe each of them in one word, it would assumedly be the following:

Kiku: Quiet (except when he's ranting about mistakes in video games).

Francis: Flirt.

Matthew: Savage.

Elizabeta: (basically the group's) Mom.

This does seem like a true recipe for disaster but… yeah it's a recipe for disaster. No denying it. People probably expect something like, "but they actually weren't so different after all" but they exceptionally go together like orange juice and toothpaste. And somehow, they are still the closest bunch in school. Things just work out I guess.

The day usually starts with them first getting to their classes and then hanging out in the library, since that's where Kiku is most comfortable. He doesn't enjoy crowded areas. There is, agreeably, an impressive air when you enter a library. One can smell the words and sentences, all bonded together with a unique scent of its own. The spines and covers are imposing as well, they are expressing the thoughts of it's creator. Are people able to sense the ageless stories created by masters of construction and persuasion that can make people laugh, cry, and ponder? Probably not. Like SOME PEOPLE, they're only here for kicks. And the fact that the librarian isn't some old lady, but a young man who is okay with talking and playing music, doesn't make it any better. That's why Kiku sits in the farthest corner, away from the stereo blasting pop music.

With everyone else in the crew.

Elizabeta was the first one to notice Alfred's strange behavior, which is not surprising. She can read people like fanfiction, and boy does she love her fanfiction. She saw him fidgeting, mumbling to himself, and the most bizarre of all: refusing food. Alfred never refuses food, ever! He has always been somewhat of a glutton, possibly because of the amount of outdoor activities he sweats through. He would always order his food in large proportions and there was never a time where he wouldn't ask for a second serving.

That was the last straw for Elizabeta, when Alfred left the cafeteria and went to gods know where, after someone generously offered them their share of lunch.

When Alfred walked in the library, bumping into several people and apologizing, Elizabeta dragged him immediately towards everyone else. She made him face her and look at her straight in her forest green eyes.

"What's going on Al? And no stupid excuses or lying, you know I can look right through you." She peered at him.

"What's going on with you Lizzy?" Gilbert interrupted the stare down session. Her attention then was directed towards the slouching albino.

"You're his best friend! Don't you see that something is up with him?"

Gilbert stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Well, I did find it kinda weird when he ignored the crowd of girls who were totally flirting with him."

"He didn't neck me like he always did too." chimed in Matthew, who was holding a stack of books.

"Ah… and he didn't button up my shirt this morning. Well, because of him, the ladies were able to see my _irresistible_ chest." Francis winked.

Everyone rolled their eyes so that the sclera showed.

"So…" Everyone's head turned towards Alfred, who found the wrinkles on his shirt more interesting than their conversation.

"What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Don't nothing me Jones. C'mon, bros always tell bros what's bothering them. We're bros right?"

"Not cool that you're hiding something from us."

"Yeah, don't agitate the poor Canadian. His hand is on his hip. One wrong move and you'll be sent to Sasstown."

"Sasstown?" Alfred gave them a look.

" _Yeah._ Down and under. _"_ Matthew gave him a dirty look.

"Look, guys," Alfred held his hands up in defeat. "I just really don't want to talk about this okay?"

"Wait, is this the reason why you've been skipping out on parties? I heard from Abigail, you refused her party invitation. Where you been at?"

Alfred tensed.

"I knew it! Is it something… or someone?" Everyone's eyebrows were lowered and curved. Their eyes were squinting.

"Who can it beeeeeee?"

"I bet she's gorgeous if it caught Alfred this much off-guard!"

"Non non." Francis waved his finger up and down at Alfred. "Based on his reactions and behavior, I can only say that they're not an item anymore."

A loud gasp rang throughout the library, although it was not heard.

"Oh my gosh yes! That's it!"

Elizabeta gave Alfred a sympathetic look.

"I'm SO sorry."

"We all are man."

"What did you do to her Alfred?" Matthew's eyebrows rose back up.

"Matt asking the legit questions! You go!"

Francis chuckled.

"I am curious as well. Aren't you, Kiku? You've been awfully quiet this whole time."

Kiku mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that? You have to speak up mon cher."

"… I don't think she's a she."

Alfred made a sound like a wounded animal.

Kiku smirked triumphantly.

"Jackpot."

The next gasp was even louder than the last one.

"OH MY GOD!"

"You swing that way huh? Don't worry, I don't really care."

"I. KNEW IT!"

"I have to say Al _dear_ that I am not, even a bit, surprised." Francis flipped his hair over his shoulder.

"Um… I… I."

 _I really messed up_ , he wanted to tell them.

 _I want to apologize but I don't know how. And I still kinda feel like he's responsible. No, he isn't! I walked out on him. And because of what, the fact that he didn't want to go on a date with me?_

Alfred pinched himself when he thought the word, "date".

"So…"

"You seem troubled." Matthew began.

"Tell us everything."

* * *

Here's some facts that Alfred left out on when he explained his situation:

The fact that he lives next door.

His name.

The incident in the room.

How absolutely adorable he is.

His atrocious cooking.

Basically he only said that he stayed at his house during the downpour, and he just walked out and left him after he refused his offer to come over to Alfred's house.

"All I want to do is tell him I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I have to admit that that's a stupid reason to just leave."

Everyone nodded in unison.

"Guys, you're not helping."

"Just go up there and say that you're sorry. Simple."

"But… I don't think he'll even answer the door anymore!"

"He's not that sensitive."

Alfred forcefully bit down the words, "yes he is".

"But-"

"No more buts mister!"

Elizabeta slammed her fists against the table.

"After our classes are done, we will take you to his house and _make_ you apologize. And don't you think about running away. Just because you're a superstar in sports doesn't mean that you can outrun"

She gestured to everyone around her.

"Us."

Alfred gulped. He knew that this was the right thing to do. He knew that this was the only way he could collect enough courage to apologize. He knew that absolutely needed to become friends again with the small but very powerful, prideful, British guy. He then fully realized how much he missed him, and the blow hit him harder than a wrecking ball hitting an abandoned building. His heart and mind finally reached a decision he knew himself was satisfactory.

He nodded.

He agreed.

No backing out.

He was going to do this.

* * *

 **Ahem. First of all, I would like to thank CaMerAnon, DrowningInTheHourglass, and OkamiDemo for reviewing this story. And of course, to the wonderfull people who left favs and follows! This may be a little late, but truly, I couldn't be coming back to the story if it wasn't for you amazing folks.**

 **I am sincerely trying my best to update faster, and now I think I can because I got a good idea how to continue this story. But I also am going to Anime Expo this week so I won't be updating then :P.**

 **Thanks for those who have been patient with me!**


	5. Chapter 5

He can't do this.

He really can't do this.

Since when has apologizing been so hard?

Apparently, since now.

Alfred couldn't stop tapping his fingers against the table during the lectures and he couldn't stop doodling Arthur on his lecture notes. The Arthurs that he drew were always of him scowling, shouting, and moping about nothing. He grew sad when his pencil naturally scribbled his wounded face that he saw just before he stormed away. Why didn't he just turn around? He could have. And maybe, he wouldn't have been feeling this miserable.

He shook his head. This really was a stupid occurrence. He shouldn't be feeling this way towards a guy he only knew for like a month. But somehow, he did. It was a bond that connected and strengthened quickly. Just thinking about Arthur gave him a peculiar euphoria that upped his spirits. Possibly it was because of his unfathomable personality that constantly drove him insane. He had the weirdest and most wonderful mood swings, which made him all old-man-cranky one second and then creepily-but-pleasantly gentle to Alfred the next. He didn't know. All he knew and wanted, more than ever, was to give him the largest hug. To squeeze him so hard and for him to eventually squeeze him back, probably twice as hard. But he was still scared. _Of what?_ He asked himself.

Rejection? Loss? Eternal regret?

All of the above.

Alfred's perpetual rapping eventually riled up the people around him; they insisted that he lessen his racket. Ultimately he did, but that didn't stop his other reasonably noticeable habits to surface:

He tapped his knee against the table leg. He grinded his teeth. He twirled his pencil. He hummed. He clicked his tongue. He murmured to himself. He played hockey with two pencils and an eraser. Then he used the two pencils to drum a steady beat. He constructed a tune in his head and started to hum it, along with the drumming. Then came the lyrics; something with a sweet rhyme.

The students in the lecture hall were relieved when it was time to leave.

* * *

His anxiety continued to aggravate the students in the following classes and he was asked by the teacher to stand outside a bit to calm his nerves.

The trees shook as soon as he stepped outside because of the crisp wind wafting by. It smelled slightly of something sweet, possibly tree sap and wildflowers. The air tickled his skin and left, like a visiting old friend, then another blew a few seconds afterwards. He let the breeze come and leave, unconsciously closing his eyes and sitting down. His mind was still a mess. He needed some time to think some more and calm himself. No wonder he was craving for some coffee.

 _Okay. Take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. You can do this._

What was the proper saying? He was acting like a lovesick schoolgirl? Yeah, that one.

He dispelled all of his nervous energy by deep breathing and excessive talking-to-himself and then returned to class all (forced) smiles to continue his learning. He was still not paying attention though.

The time of his visit was coming near. Gilbert and Matthew never left his side, just in case he tried to escape. Alfred actually had the guts to best the duo a couple of times, but failed miserably to no surprise. Elizabeta never stopped sending him winky face emojis and lenny faces; he ignored all of them. Kiku still seemed disinterested but he relentlessly gave him thumbs ups whenever they saw each other. He couldn't get mad at Kiku though. He did know that this was their way of showing their support, no matter how annoying it was. He appreciated the gesture a lot more than he showed it.

Sooner than expected, he was in the car, getting driven to a familiar destination. It was more like a van than a car though. A worn out van that smelled like the residue of a bunch of sweaty adolescents. They called it the "Magic Machine" in reference of the Mystery Machine and the Magic School Bus, both from very nostalgic cartoon shows. Additionally, it was because Gilbert told a story about selling illegal drugs with that van (definitely not true). The engine made funny noises and there were apparently some times when the breaks don't work very well; it's all part of the "Magical Adventure" on the "Magic Machine", you truly risk it all in this contraption. Thank god Matt's driving.

His stomach was all over the place when he was in the car. First of all, there were a lot of sharp turns around the area and Gilbert, who called shotgun, kept disrupting Matthew, making him more vulnerable to make risky, tire-squealing maneuvers (which he is the best one to do so out of the group, mind you). And of course the second reason is obvious enough not to mention. Elizabeta could not stop squealing from the back; apparently her favorite anime series got a second season.

"Hopefully," she exclaimed, "that this info ain't fake!"

Kiku was doing some background research, for he loved the series as well. No surprise there. The two of them were always in their own little desolate island, murmuring and saying random Japanese phrases. They apparently also had intense anime marathons; they would cram several seasons in one night. Quite an impressive feat. Useless, but impressive.

They both seemed to have forgotten why they were in the van. Alfred was thankful for that. He didn't want to be bombarded with questions and stress himself even further. Should he have prepared notecards?

Alfred mentally face palmed himself.

For the last time, it was just a simple apology that was going to be shared between two reasonable adults. Nothing to sweat through your clothes about. Alfred felt as though he was going to perform an intense guitar solo in front of millions of people, when he doesn't know how to play guitar. This was not a concert. There aren't going to be millions of people. Honestly, why do people always worry about the smallest things, and dive in head first without thinking for the big things. This is one of the world's greatest mysteries that will never be solved, because the human mind is a strange place.

Alfred specifically told them to take him to his house, so to his house they arrived. He wanted to ask the gang whether he can go in real quick to freshen up – he actually might have sweat through his clothes – but he knew they would answer no. Sighing in defeat, Alfred hopped off the van and onto the pavement.

"Let me guess," Elizabeta stroked her chin a bit, "is it… that house?"

"Non non." Francis' voice startled Alfred because he didn't remember him being in the car. He must have been too busy texting his girlfriend back in France. Yes, he has a girlfriend. A pretty, but strong figure named Joan. "That one is too flashy. According to Alfred's description, he lives in a place that's simpler."

"Then what about that one?"

"… Nope."

"That one?"

"No."

"Then the one next to it?"

"I'm running out of ways to say 'you're not even close'."

"Rude Fran-Fran, I'm really trying here!"

"I would like a guess." Kiku walked in front of us. "That one."

He pointed to the looming Victorian Gothic mansion-like building, with paint almost completely worn off to leave behind a mystic jade green color that was located across a few streets.

Everyone stared for a while, jaws wide open, and faces obviously screaming "no way!"

A shiver went through Alfred's entire body, but it felt welcoming. His stomach discomfort completely dissipated.

Then Francis shrugged. "Seems the most likely."

"Wow."

"Woah, I'm impressed!"

"Wrong time period though."

Gilbert suddenly burst with laughter.

"Al, are you sure your friend isn't some kind of _ghost_ or something?"

"Pretty sure he isn't."

I mean, he definitely wasn't normal, but he wasn't dead either. The touching and kind-of-hugging-and-cuddling-but-not-really showed that he was human; you can't touch a ghost of course, simple logic. There was some supernatural air about him, not to mention the incident… wait, what incident? Alfred could have sworn-

Oh well, probably wasn't too important if he forgot.

"Pretty sure the place's freaking haunted. How's the inside? Filled with cobwebs maybe?"

"No Gilbert. He keeps clean, unlike you."

Gilbert snickered. "You hit a real sore spot there, old friend."

Alfred was able to smile back. He was feeling it now. A barrier broke and something was set free. A monster, in the form of large amounts of adrenaline, charged through his veins, which cause his eyes to dilate dangerously. His limbs shook with pent up energy and his smile grew larger and larger, until it overtook about half of his face. It was the look of a person who was going to do something stupid in the next few seconds.

Alfred started running.

There were no crosswalks.

It was actually a relatively busy neighborhood with cars coming on by.

Alfred wasn't paying attention to anything.

A man bought something online a few days back.

A truck.

Alfred couldn't stop.

A white delivery truck.

Alfred kept on going straight.

A speeding white delivery truck.

Alfred's eyes were on his shoes, which were slamming against the ground.

There was shouting.

Running.

Footsteps.

Shove.

Pain.

Flash.

Nothing.

...

Told you so.

* * *

 **:3**


	6. Chapter 6

"C'mon, no time for dilly-dallying!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

"Not at that rate you aren't."

"Yeah, hurry up!"

Four boys were running up a grassy hill while shoving and pulling each other down. The sweat soaked through their shirts and their green eyes shined brighter in determination. Eventually, one tall, auburn haired boy reached the top and slapped the tree. He cackled down on the other boys, who were still huffing and puffing their way up.

"Artie! Hurry up!"

The other two boys reached the tree soon afterwards but the last one, the smallest one, tripped and fell. For a moment he lay there, until he bounced right back up. His mud smeared face was smiling and laughing. He bounded all the way into the tall boy's arms.

"I'm here!"

The boy responded with a hearty laugh. "Yes you are Artie, yes you are."

"Boys! Enough roughhousing. Come down, the picnic is ready."

"Yes, father," all boys responded in unison.

They sprinted down the hill to where their parents were. They sat down on the checkered blanket and were given plates. The father immediately chuckled when he saw Artie.

"I can see that you four had some fun. Allistor, Seamus, Dylan; please clean up Artie's face before he eats." The boys snickered. Dylan grabbed some napkins and scrubbed the dirt off of Artie.

"You little clumsy lad," Dylan said affectionately. Artie just grinned.

"Now, now. Pass me your plates." A blond haired woman collected the boy's plates and placed her homemade cooking on it. Sandwiches and chicken; apples and grapes; the food made the whole family's mouth water.

"Thank you for the food, Grace," The father exclaimed in joy.

"Yeah, thanks mom!"

"You are welcome boys, and of course, James," Grace replied, gleeful from the praise.

They soon dined and not a scrap was wasted. Food was stolen in between the four boys, but they didn't mind; it was the norm. They gave their cleared plates to their mother for seconds, and thirds, and fourths; until their bellies were round and they couldn't move at all. They all groaned and soon fell into an afternoon nap, while being in an uncomfortable clump. The father and mother gazed tenderly at their boys as they rested as well. There was a symphony of snores and grumbles as they spent another lovely day together.

* * *

"Hey Artie, don't stand to close to the water, alright?"

"Kay!"

Artie waddled around in his swim shorts and flip flops along the sandy coast. Allistor stayed close to him, making sure nothing happens to him. They were headed towards the tide pools, so they could meet some sea creatures, or to just splash around in the chilling sea water.

"Ahh, I see it!" Artie started to dash towards the large rocks that surrounded the tide pools.

"Wait up, Art!" Allistor caught up to his ecstatic younger brother and scolded him. He could be so reckless at times.

They both climbed on top of the rocks and peered into the cerulean pools under them. It was breathtakingly picturesque, with the pinks and the oranges of the starfish and the greens of the anemone. There were also small crabs, scuttling through the water. Artie curiously started to poke everything he could see. He felt some creatures flinch and he flinched as well. He decided to keep a distance and just gazed at them from afar. Allistor joined him and pointed out all the sea creatures he could name. Artie named some of them too, with names like George and Catherine. Allistor ruffled Artie's hair gently and led him to the farther tide pools. Artie suddenly stopped walking a gasped.

"S-sparkly!" Artie picked up a stone that shone in the summer sun. Allistor inspected it and grinned.

"Wow, what a discovery. Could it be something, magical?"

"Magic?" Artie bounced up and down with excitement.

"Yeah, like it could grant a wish or something."

"Cooool!" Artie large eyes were shimmering brighter than the stone. Allistor chortled at Artie's optimistic energy. "Imma gonna keep it forever," Artie whispered, rubbing the stone against his chubby cheeks.

"You definitely should, Art, for good luck. Say, I'll even make it into a little necklace for ya, how about that?"

"Yes, please!" Allistor nodded.

"Allistor, Artie, mum's looking for you two!" A voice called from the distance.

"That was Seamus, we should head back."

"Kay!"

Their feet hit the sand as they raced off towards a bronze haired boy, Seamus.

"Whatcha got there, Art?" Seamus asked as they walked to their multi-colored umbrella.

"A wishing stone!"

"Hmmmm, a wishing stone, ey? Well, you better hold onto it tight, ya might lose it."

"Noooo," Artie exclaimed, "I won't lose it, eva!"

"You hold onto that promise, Artie," Allistor said, "like a man."

"Like a man!" Artie parroted.

"Like a man," Seamus repeated.

When they came to their umbrella, they saw the rest of their family preparing for a picture. Dylan beckoned them to help their father to open the tripod. As they finished setting up the equipment, James started the countdown.

Five!

Four!

Three!

They all scattered about, until they gathered once more and posed.

Two!

Artie grabbed onto Allistor's arm, stared towards the camera, and gave the toothiest smile that he can manage.

One!

Flash!

The moon rose high in the crepuscular vastness and the stars glimmered about like jewels of all sizes. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, so the stunningly marvelous night sky was seen to its full potential. Inside a home, Allistor was busy. He was at work, chipping and threading, until he was satisfied with his work.

"Artie! I'm done!"

Artie's little feet stumbled him into Allistor's room. He raised his arms in triumph.

"Yay!"

Allistor mimicked the action.

"Yay!"

Artie sat down in front of his eldest brother, impatiently rocking around. Allistor grabbed his creation from the floor and draped it around his neck. He tied it tightly from behind.

"Tadah!" The stone that Artie found on the beach was now a necklace. Artie grasped the stone, which was now resting on top of his racing heart. He whispered his thanks.

"Yer welcome Art. Now get to bed, befor' mum finds ya."

Artie nodded and quietly tiptoed out of his room and back into his. He threw himself onto his bed, still wearing his new accessory. With it, he fell into a peaceful slumber.

"Promise… like a man… don't lose it… don't forget."

"It can grant wishes. It contacts the heavens. Whenever you feel sad, make sure to tell this stone, alright?"

" _Where are you?"_

"Don't worry Art. That stone makes ya a warlock. Don't be afraid of nothin'!"

" _I'm scared."_

"Powerful wizard Art! The world trembles with your might!"

" _Please."_

"O' great one!"

" _Don't leave."_

"Everybody makes mistakes, it's a-okay. You're human, after all."

" _Am I?"_

"Naw, Artie's not a human, he's my lil' bro. He can pack a punch! Runs in the family."

"Yeah… I heard some rumors about your lil' bro though."

" _Huh?"_

"He's creepy."

" _I'm not."_

"He's weird."

" _I'M NOT."_

"You should be careful."

" _Of what?_

"Of him."

" **Of you."**

Arthur's eyes opened.

* * *

 **I'm alive... yup. Apologizing once again. And this lil' old thing isn't enough to satisfy you guys I bet. Hope that I can update soon.**


End file.
